Page 4 of Cross Checks

Back at the fire station, while I stowed my gear, I thought about him again. It wasn’t just random thoughts hoping he was safe. My curiosity ran deeper…intrigue, interest…attraction? I wasn’t sure.

After I shut my locker, I leaned against it and exhaled. The banter of my fellow firefighters was a low hum in the background. I thought about Chase’s face, dark brown hair, and soulful brown eyes. I couldn’t wait to see him healthy and happy at some point in the future.

Before heading home for the day, I casually asked our chief if he had any update on Chase’s condition.

“Just a bit of smoke inhalation. It’s nothing too serious, and he should be fine soon.”

A wave of relief washed over me. I didn’t realize I’d been holding onto so much tension and concern until it started to fade away.

In my tidy house just outside of downtown, the familiar surroundings did little to distract me from my fixation on Chase. With a beer in hand, I glanced around my living room, looking at the firefighting memorabilia and family photos.

My worn leather recliner was my go-to spot for relaxation. I collapsed into it and pointed the remote control at the TV. After zipping through many channels, I finally turned it off and thought again about Chase.

He was probably lying in bed at the hospital, sleeping. Maybe he had a group of teammates or family crowded around him.

My parents lived about half an hour away in Portland, and I had two brothers in Boston. If something bad happened to me in the line of duty, my family would likely be at the hospital by nightfall with my firefighting buddies crowded around the bed.

I didn’t know what it was about Chase. I fondly remembered the experience of carrying him with his arms wrapped around my neck. My fingers tingled with the memory of touching his smooth skin and feeling the firm muscle beneath.

Was I somehow attracted to him? I’d only ever dated women, but I didn’t discount the attractiveness of certain men. Who could deny the appeal of Liam Hemsworth, Timothee Chalet, or even Ryan Reynolds? I always figured I’d never kick them out ofmybed.

While I considered the pros and cons of visiting Chase in the hospital, I remembered the coming out process for one of my firefighting buddies, Lyle. It all happened in the last year with what felt like a happy ending.

On the day he decided to share his orientation with the rest of us, we didn’t have much advance warning. On that particular day, he was a little more reserved than usual. Typically, Lyle was a dependable source of good humor and talent on the job.

He joined us in the lounge as we relaxed on mismatched furniture. When he noisily cleared his throat, we all looked up.

“I’ve got something to say.” His voice was less confident than usual, slightly breaking on the last word. “I’ve been carrying this around for a while, and I think it’s time for me to be open with all of you.”

I looked around at the rest of the crew. They appeared as clueless as me.

“I’m gay,” Lyle stated. The two words hung in the air. They were significant, but when I looked around again, I saw no indication of negative reactions.

His courage to stand before us and reveal something so personal impressed me. Fortunately, what he found in the crew was pure acceptance.

I did my best to speak for my buddies when I said, “We’ve got your back, bud. It takes guts to say that, but don’t worry. You’ve got nothing but support here.”

He received a solid round of handshakes and pats on the back. His statement changed things but for the better. Over the next few weeks, more conversations emerged about acceptance and understanding.

Some of my buddies shared stories about friends and relatives who were gay. I was proud of Lyle. He helped us reveal our best selves.

By the time the evening wound down toward bedtime, I’d decided to visit Chase in the morning. I texted the fire chief to mention that I’d be a couple of hours late getting to the station in the morning.

After I explained why, he returned a message that amounted to a supportive slap on the back.

“You’re a perfect goodwill ambassador for the department, Hank. Let me know how it goes.”

* * *

The next morning, I woke up early and stared at the ceiling. “Maybe you should just sleep in, Hank,” I told myself. “You barely know the guy.”

Next, I blinked my eyes, and everything about Chase came back—his smile of gratitude, the arms wrapped around my neck, his handsome face, and even the scent of his shampoo that battled the lingering smell of smoke. It was time to toss caution to the wind and go.

I pushed myself out of bed, and the late October floorboards were cool under my feet. After taking a shower, I stood in front of my closet. What do you wear to visit someone in the hospital you don’t know well but secretly hope you can get to know a whole lot better?

I rifled through the shirts, dismissing some as too formal and others as too casual. Ultimately, I pulled a soft gray t-shirt out of a drawer. It clung to my body in all the right places. A pair of well-fitting jeans completed the outfit. To my eyes, it looked casual and like I wasn’t trying too hard.

While I grabbed a slice of toast and a cup of coffee, doubts plagued me again. Was it really a good idea? Was I misreading the whole situation? Was I about to make things awkward?

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